


Your Broody Brood

by Demial



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Crossover, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Light Drama, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Sassy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-14 01:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demial/pseuds/Demial
Summary: Gender Neutral Reader in a poly relationship with Hanzo Shimada and Shota Aizawa.





	1. Chapter 1

"Let him sleep," you say to Hanzo. You continue to scrub the pot clean of spaghetti sauce from dinner earlier that evening.  
  
"He always sleeps," he says with a growly undertone. He crosses his arms at the kitchen table. While not the dark pits Shota usually sports, Hanzo has dark circles under his eyes. Something has been disturbing his sleep.  
  
"I know what you're saying." Hanzo snorts at that. You continue. "You're saying he doesn't train as much as you. Well, he still beats you every time, so..." You trail off and let the wicked grin on your face say the rest.  
  
Hanzo stares at you, letting the silence stretch.  
  
"You're lucky I don't take such comments from you personally," he finally says.  
  
"Why didn't I soak this bitch?!" you mutter to yourself, still scrubbing. "Sorry, what?" you ask Hanzo.  
  
"Nevermind."  
  
It wasn't important, anyway. You rinse the now-clean pot and place it in the drying rack.  
  
"Does he have to use his sleeping bag on the bed?" Hanzo demands from out of nowhere.  
  
"That's how he likes it," you say.  
  
"He puts it on top of the blankets!"  
  
"So?!"  
  
"I wish to use those blankets," Hanzo pouts.  
  
"Then move him. You know it won't wake him up."  
  
You get the mental image of Hanzo whipping the blankets and the cocooned Shota falling to the floor, still snoozing away. You smile to yourself.  
  
"That is rude."  
  
You scoff, as if Hanzo wasn't just shit-talking Shota just now.  
  
" _Saying_ and _doing_ are two different things," he claims.  
  
You shake your head, washing the last dish. "If you say so, Hanzo."  
  
You finish the dishes and sit next to Hanzo to take a moment to relax. You lean against his warm, solid frame, soaking in his heat like a needy human sponge. He hugs you a tad closer with an arm around your waist. A few minutes pass, and Shota walks into the kitchen. His hair is up, and he wears all black on his lean frame.  
  
"Good morning!" you call with a smile. Anytime he gets up is 'morning' to you.  
  
"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," Hanzo taunts. "What drags your depressed carcass into this kitchen at this hour, Aizawa?"  
  
"Just for that, you can come patrolling with me."  
  
"You're a teacher!" Hanzo protests. "You don't have to!"  
  
He tenses up under you, and you sit up, sensing drama brewing.  
  
"You'll do as I say if you don't want me to report Overwatch activities to the authorities."  
  
Hanzo turns red with anger, but he gets up to do as Shota says. His path to where his bow is stored takes him past the pro hero. Hanzo pauses to lock gazes with the other man. You adore the contrast between them. Two dark-locked, small men, but one with perpetual bedhead and the other with nary a hair out of place, even while relaxing at home. Shota blinks back with his usual, exhausted stare. His expression is somewhat impertinent, and Hanzo furrows his brow further. Still, he has to protect Overwatch, and goes to get Stormbow from its case.  
  
You get up as Shota turns to you. He pecks a kiss to your forehead.  
  
"I'll have him back by bedtime," he promises with a tired smile.  
  
You laugh. "He's older than you!"  
  
"He still acts like one of my students," Shota mutters, turning to leave.


	2. Meeting Shota

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to when Reader first met Shota. Then I'll write how they met Hanzo.

It was because of your quirk that you met Shota Aizawa. Your quirk was empathy. You sensed people's emotions, whether you wanted to or not. Most of the time, you could ignore it. People's emotions stayed in their skulls and that was that. Sometimes, they leaked out like a gas and hung around people like a cloud.  
  
You couldn't work as a pro hero in the traditional sense. Instead, you got a career as a rare and prized therapist.  
  
You didn't know you were living next to the pro hero and U.A. teacher Eraser Head. You just knew when your neighbour in the apartment next door was home. It was obvious depression. You saw it at work all the time. It permeated their entire apartment as a dark cloud. You sensed the good underneath it. This person had heavy, tiring depression, but they were functioning. Especially since they left home so often.  
  
You were intrigued by your neighbour. You spent time sitting with your back against one of your shared walls as if the proximity would sharpen your quirk. You sat against the wall with your dinner plate in one hand and utensil in the other, letting your neighbour's depression settle on you like a raggedy, well-loved, and warm blanket. There was some comfort to be had in going down the black-as-night hole. Of wallowing in the sadness and the self-loathing.  
  
Eventually, you had to meet them. Their depression probably surrounded them like a wall, keeping others out, but you were just the person to get past that.  
  
You could only think of a cliche way to get to meet them. When you sensed them at home, you went next door, pretending to need a couple cups of rice.  
  
Who met you was partially the kind of person you expect, a dishevelled and tired-looking man who looked like he left it too long to shave. Far from being repulsed by him, you were intrigued. Especially by the scar under his eye. You mentally tucked away the question of how he got it for later.  
  
When you introduced yourself, he was forced to give you his name in return. Shota Aizawa. You could feel and see the annoyance that he was being disturbed by a stranger, but you also felt curiosity underneath it. You felt bad for peeking into his mind, but it was innocent enough, you thought.  
  
"Oh, thank you!" you exclaimed when he handed you a plastic container of rice.  
  
You smiled extra wide, because now you had an opportunity to see him again. You had to return the container, and therefore, got another opportunity to see him. You turned to leave, but Mr. Aizawa spoke up.  
  
"You don't seem the type to be out of such a thing."  
  
He stared at you, seemingly straight into your mind. He might have seen through your clever little scheme. Staring back, you decided he was the type who wouldn't appreciate someone lying to him.  
  
"Ahhh...no," you admitted sheepishly. "I wanted to meet my neighbour who I've lived next to for a year and never seen."  
  
"Ahhh." His expression didn't change, but you felt like you got off the hook. "Take your time giving back the container."  
  
He shut the door.  
  
You went back inside your apartment a little excited. And you thought...you'd seen this Mr. Aizawa before. You googled him and then gasped. He was Eraser Head! That's so cool.  
  
You glanced at the borrowed container of rice, and an idea came to you. You could return it filled with the best thing you could cook. Everyone appreciates free food.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm unsure about my characterization of Aizawa, but it's my first time writing him so I am not too fussed. I will continue this if more ideas occur to me!


End file.
